Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)(4)

It wasn’t working.

The spinning was only increasing. I looked at the faucet of the shower, trying to focus on it to steady myself, the silver fixture moved, spun, and duplicated itself, even though I was sure I was holding still.

My eyes closed as I breathed in the steam, hoping that somehow the dizziness would leave.

It got worse. I was forced to stumble out of the shower, hair unwashed, only to have my foot catch on the shower curtain and send me slamming into the ground.

My shoulder impacted hard on the tiles, a jolt of pain searing down my spine. I yelled out on impact and frantically tried to right myself. The dizziness expanded and I collapsed back onto the floor. The cool tiles under my skin seemed to clear my mind a bit, so I focused on them.

“Joclyn!” Ilyan yelled through the door, his voice panicked. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” my voice was muffled by the tile. I wasn’t sure Ilyan heard me, and he continued to pound on the door. I tried again but his panicked yelling drowned out my voice. Great, he was going to barge in and I was lying naked in the middle of the bathroom floor.

I forced myself up and grabbed the hoodie and pajama pants from the counter, pulling them on over my damp body. I pulled the hoodie down, my body collapsed again as the door was flung open, allowing Ilyan to tumble into the room, his blonde hair swinging.

“Joclyn!” he yelled.

“I’m here.”

I was surprised by how weak my voice was. I knew I wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I shook my head hoping that the dizziness would leave, but it only got worse.

Ilyan kneeled down next to me. His hands flew to my cheeks, his magic plunging into me as he checked for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Ilyan.” I batted his hand away from me, breaking the connection.

“Are you sure?” His accent was so thick, I barely understood him.

I nodded, but I was starting to wonder if I really was. This was beginning to feel more like I was being drained than a dehydrated dizziness. It was as if someone was reaching inside me and scrambling everything together.

Ilyan wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to standing, his body supporting me as my head continued to spin. I didn’t dare say anything, so I let him lead me out of the bathroom.

“Bacon?” I asked, surprised at the smell of bacon and eggs that had filled the small living space. Ilyan was a vegan and had eaten no more than fruit or vegetables for the last few centuries. The fact that he would even attempt to make bacon and eggs was humorous as well as heartening.

“Yes,” he grimaced, “I just hope I did it right. I think the influx of protein might help you.”

Ilyan placed me at one of the chairs at the tiny table. What was surely a full pack of perfectly crisp, browned bacon sat in all its greasy goodness before me. I hadn’t eaten meat in what felt like months and just the smell was making my mouth water.

“Thank you, Ilyan.” I smiled brightly at him, ignoring the swelling and swimming that was going on inside my brain.

His eyes were shining joyfully. But it wasn’t only happiness I saw behind his eyes, there was something there I couldn’t quite place. I was trying to figure out what it might be when the swelling in my head grew into something more painful and I called out, clutching my hands to my head.

I could barely make out Ilyan rushing towards me from the kitchenette; calling to me, yelling for me. The pain continued to grow as my vision blacked out, and the air swirled past me as I fell from the chair.

I never felt the impact, but on my way down I could have sworn I heard someone laughing.





Two


“Sakra, Ovailia! I don’t know how it happened!”

Ilyan’s voice woke me up from a deep sleep, and I immediately regretted it. My body hurt and groaned. My bones creaked and ached as if they were swelling. My chest fought with every breath, a heavy weight restricting my movements.

Ilyan yelled something in Czech and I reluctantly opened my eyes. Even my eye lids hurt.

It was night. The only light in the room came from a small lamp near the balcony that lit up the room eerily with a heavy yellow glow. The bacon still sat on the table, and the chair I had sat in was knocked over. A large dark stain spread over the carpet nearby. I moved to try and get a better look, but a pressurized pain spread over my skull. I closed my eyes tightly against the threatening migraine.

“That’s just it, Ovailia, it’s as if her magic has been drained. Normally it’s a suffocating torrent when I try to heal her, but now there is nothing there. Nothing is fighting me.”

My magic was gone? I reached inside of me and pulled it up as I had been taught to do, but it didn’t respond as usual. It was slow and heavy, like when you move your hand through sludge. Even the attempt to work it up and push it outside of me caused pain.

“You are asking me questions I do not know the answers to,” Ilyan spoke harshly before transitioning into Czech again. I shifted my weight again and my back seized up in the exact places I had broken a few weeks before.

“Ilyan!” I called out to him. My spine curled, arching itself out in a fan before freezing me in place.

“I have to go.” I heard the phone click shut, and a moment later Ilyan’s hands pressed against my skin. His magic filled me instantly. It raced through my skin faster than lightning and with more strength than I had ever experienced.